A tender, poignant love story is all but obliterated by the relentless barrage of stylistic tics and hiccups courtesy of director Nathan Silver, who — at times — has made his little film just this side of unwatchable.
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| When Carla (Carol Kane) has trouble properly pronouncing many of the Hebrew terms in the bat mitzvah ceremony, Ben (Jason Schwartzman) helps by "playing" them on a guitar. |
Worse yet, Silver and cinematographer Sean Price Williams favor tight-tight-tight close-ups to an ludicrous degree. I mean, seriously: Do we really need to zoom in on a woman’s mouth, as she eats some crackers? Along with an endless array of shots that show only portions of a given person’s face?
If all this clutter serves some artistic or symbolic purpose, it eludes me.
Jason Schwartzman stars as Ben Gottlieb, a small-town cantor at the local synagogue. He has lost his “bliss” following the tragic and untimely death of his wife, Ruth, a year earlier. Since then, he has been unable to sing ... and a synagogue cantor who can’t sing, is about as useless as the proverbial screen door on a submarine.
His two mothers, in an effort to bring him out of his funk — the doting, sympathetic Meira (Caroline Aaron) and overly stern and critical Judith (Dolly De Leon) — try to “solve” the problem by setting Ben up with an endless stream of inappropriate, sneak-attack blind dates.
The one we meet, as this film begins, is over-the-top bizarre in a manner that may have intended to be humorous, but Silver and co-scripter C. Mason Wells exaggerated her to the point of absurdity. Or maybe the actress in question improvised her brief scene. Either way, this prologue is so Out There, that it may prompt viewers to flee the theater.
Aaron’s Meira is the model mother: patient, sensitive to others, and always ready with a kind word. In great contrast, De Leon plays Judith as an cold-hearted, judgmental control freak ... which is ironic, since she and Meira likely faced their share of intolerance, during the early days of their relationship. It’s hard to think kindly of Judith.
Chance subsequently brings Ben into contact with Carla Kessler (a radiant Carol Kane), who — way back in the day — was his elementary music teacher. She views this reunion as a sign that she finally can accomplish what eluded her in childhood: reconnecting with her Jewish faith by studying for, and earning, a bat mitzvah.
Ben initially turns Carla down flat, both because he’s too wrapped up in himself, and also because ... well ... isn’t she too old? But Carla, not to be denied, hounds Ben until he puts the question to his temple’s kind (if somewhat obtuse) Rabbi Bruce (Robert Smigel). Unusual and certainly eccentric, the rabbi agrees, but, really, why not?
Now lacking any reason to remain inflexible, Ben accepts the challenge. It’ll be a long haul, he warns Carla: 13 months of intense study, learning a language — and its proper cadence and pronunciation — that she never spoke during childhood. (She was, Carla later explains, a “red diaper baby” — the child of 1950s Communist Party members — and no temple would have anything to do with her.)
This is the heart of Silver’s film, and Ben and Carla’s scenes together are beyond charming. Kane is a force of nature; Carla is feisty, fearless and very sensitive to Ben’s anguish. She “handles” him in a quirky and compassionate manner wholly removed from what his two mothers attempt, and — of course — is far more successful.
Although Schwartzman is well-suited to this sad-sack role, it’s not far removed from the overly self-analytical nebbishes he has played in far too many earlier movies. It’s his one-note signature performance, although — in fairness — he successfully makes Ben endearingly vulnerable at times.
Ben and Carla’s shared dialogue is droll, perhaps even flirty, and persuasively authentic to the mental space these two characters occupy. If only the film concentrated more on them...
...but no.
Ben is presented with another potential match: Gabby (Madeline Weinstein), daughter of Rabbi Bruce, who is recovering from a damaging prior relationship. Dating her — or, better still, marrying her — would further integrate Ben into temple affairs: a “traditional” pathway that would delight his two mothers and Rabbi Bruce.
Gabby is willing, but — in another hiccup that comes out of left field — she becomes fixated on the pornographic aspects of the dead Ruth’s sole published novel, Right at the Wrong Time.
Ben has 762 saved “phone sex” messages from Ruth, which Gabby wants to hear. Under different circumstances, how this plays out might have been funny and/or erotic ... but here, due to the jarringly explicit dialogue — so out of place! — this detour is just uncomfortably weird.
On the other hand, a surprise visit from Carla’s son, Nat (Matthew Shear) — accompanied by his wife (Lindsay Burdge) and their twin daughters — is wincingly embarrassing for all the right reasons. Nat’s barely restrained hostility — during a restaurant dinner, no less — stems from an apparently unhappy childhood. He’s quick to identify as an atheist, and can’t imagine why his mother wants to connect with a faith he can’t be bothered to understand.
The scene — and its dialogue — feel so real, that it’s painful.
Silver and Wells also do an excellent job with their story’s depiction of faith: respectful, open-minded, and without condescension. It’s refreshing to find a film that places such importance on an honest portrayal of how religion can be so crucial to people.
But whether these positives will outweigh Silver’s relentless negatives, remains an open question. His approach pretty much ruined the film for me.
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